


Reminders of Self

by Jathis



Series: Stories of Drow [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Ulrich has to shorten the leash through false kindness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminders of Self

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a short series with my characters and the characters of my friend Redro who you can find here on Tumblr: http://1veryskepticalgecko.tumblr.com/
> 
> Ulrich belongs to her
> 
> Alfons belongs to me

He slipped the slender mouthpiece of the hose between his lips and took a deep pull. Flavored smoke filled his mouth and he held it in briefly before letting it flow from parted lips. He held up a hand, silently asking for a glass of wine. The Drow nodded in approval as a filled glass was handed to him, taking another pull on his hookah. The Drow was lounging naked on a pile of cushions, a hookah by his side and a kneeling Moon Elf on the other. “Things are dull without those two around to play with,” he muttered.  
  
“Master, may I speak?”  
  
Ulrich blew smoke in Alfons’ face before saying, “you already are.”  
  
“Well I… I wanted to know where they are?” Alfons asked.  
  
“Worried about your Forest Elf?” Ulrich teased. He smiled at the way the slave blushed and looked away. “Peace, pet. My mother simply needed them for a raid she’s doing against one of her rivals. One can never have too many soldiers when you’re trying to crush a Matron.”  
  
“A raid on a rival?” Alfons asked.  
  
Ulrich shrugged and drank his wine. He licked his lips when he was finished and set the glass down. “The kind where everyone dies. An entire family line, from infant to crone; slaughtered in mere hours and left to rot in a pit where no one will find the bones,” he explained.  
  
The Moon Elf paled at his Master’s words, shaking his head as he asked, “even the infants?”  
  
Ulrich laughed hard at the question, sitting up when he started to cough. “You care about the spawn of Matrons? Knowing what they grow up to become?” he teased.  
  
Alfons blushed and looked away as he mumbled, “not everyone finds pleasure in slaughtering babies like Drow do!” His eyes widened in horror when he realized what he had said. “Master…”  
  
“Is that Forest Elf teaching you to be so mouthy, pet?” Ulrich asked. He smirked as he watched the Moon Elf blush and try to stammer out an apology. Finally he just shook his head, holding out the hose to him. “Shut up and smoke.” He watched in approval as the slave obeyed and said, “she won’t kill all of them. Any older sons she finds attractive will be spared at the very least and turned into fuck toys. Perhaps she will take the infants and sell them into slavery with forged papers. That is better than being smashed to the floor, yes?”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
Ulrich watched as Alfons took several small puffs and smiled, running a hand through the Elf’s black hair. “You’re sweet for a fool who has never been to the surface.”  
  
“Macklin says it’s blue and green up there,” Alfons mumbled around the mouthpiece before taking another pull.  
  
“I’m sure he does,” Ulrich sniffed, taking it back for a pull himself. “Perhaps I should have a little talk with him about his little…talks with you concerning the surface. You don’t belong up there,” he reminded him.  
  
“No, I don’t…”  
  
“You were made for me. Your parents were bred to make me a gift. You are that gift.”  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
Ulrich calmly held out an arm, smirking as his slave laid down beside him and hugged onto him. “You don’t need the surface. You have me.”


End file.
